


To Those Who Wait

by Tazii



Category: RWBY
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol, Blood, But mostly fluff, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Murder, and little moments of sad, soft villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazii/pseuds/Tazii
Summary: When it came to the art of love, Tyrian was the kind to fall headfirst into the depths.Arthur, however, preferred to test the waters before he considered easing himself in too.OR5 times Tyrian Callows was in loveand 1 time Arthur Watts was too
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Comments: 12
Kudos: 98





	To Those Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhNoHello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoHello/gifts).



> First and foremost, thank you Scrumpy for your very generous donation to the Australian bushfire relief!! Your donation (and every other) is greatly appreciated!! And I hope this fic was worth it!
> 
> Thank you kindly for your patience and I hope you enjoy~
> 
> This fic is based loosely around one of those 'ship headcanon memes' on tumblr where I suggested the only secret Arthur keeps from Tyrian is how long it took him to fall in love.
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy too!!

1 -

Arthur’s relationship with the resident homicidal faunus had never been all that complicated.

They were teammates at best, forced into each other’s company under the direction of their immortal leader. Arthur never accepted Salem’s offer to join her ranks just to make _friends_. There were those of the circle whose company Arthur much preferred over the others and Tyrian just happened to fall into that category.

Arthur never would have referred to them as _’friends’_ even then. They could talk when time called for it but neither went out of their way. They were all simply pieces on the same side of the chessboard. For the most part Arthur enjoyed his own isolation and Tyrian seemed to prefer being on the field. 

It wasn’t until one mistake wound the killer up in his quarters that the two really got… _personal_.

It took months of designing and crafting. A lot of trial and error as the two were forced into each other's company. 

Tyrian was simultaneously better and _worse_ than Arthur imagined. 

To his credit Tyrian hadn’t attempted or threatened to kill Arthur during it all. It had been about what Arthur expected. As pins were lodged between chitin to pin the armoured support in place, Tyrian spat and hissed, but never threatened. His eyes would flutter to a deep shade of purple but he’d just as quickly grit his teeth and force it at bay. Tyrian was far better at keeping his urges under control than Arthur initially gave him credit for. While the lack of aggression pointed at Arthur was a relief, that was the extent of Arthur’s gratitude.

Though the suffering was long over, Arthur could still hear the grind of nails across metal. The gnashing of teeth and animalistic screams. In the struggle to bind metal to plates and flesh Arthur had taken a couple smacks to the mouth and upside his head from the tail. The thrashing only made it all so much _worse_ , dislodging unset pins and reopening wounds which only served to double Tyrian’s efforts. For the most part Arthur was tempted to forego Tyrian’s wishes and forcefully sedate him.

How they’d gotten through it all, Arthur hadn’t the foggiest. 

Eventually everything was set in place. Tyrian was set free and could sit up while Arthur inspected his work. He got Tyrian to test the dexterity of the tail as he unloaded question after question at the patient. 

For someone who’d spent the better half of an hour screaming bloody murder, Tyrian was rather calm the moment he was out. Giddy, really, and Arthur should be used to the mood swings at this point. 

He took Tyrian’s tail into his own hands, twisting and bending until the joints strained. He pulled to test the connection, studying it crucially while Tyrian remained silent. Uncharacteristically silent, to be completely honest, but Arthur was too absorbed with his testing to care about what the man _attached_ to the tail was doing. 

Arthur bent the stinger back and strained the joint, observing the venom deposits. It would take some time for venom to flow but at the very least they looked perfectly connected. He tugged one way and attempted to study the shift in metal plates before the tail was violently ripped from his grasp.

“Tyrian!” Arthur barked but he didn’t have time to try and snatch it back. Not when the man in question launched himself at Arthur.

The sudden weight against his chest knocked Arthur back along with his chair. Arthur’s arms sprayed out in a pointless panicked attempt to catch himself only for the chair to slam against his concrete floors. His aura cushioned the impact but the sudden slam still forced the breath out of his lungs. The wooden back dug into his spine as Tyrian sat on his belly, knees braced under Arthur’s armpits.

“Tyrian!” Arthur snarled again, voice strained and pained as he shot a glare up at the other. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re-!”

Tyrian’s tail arched up above his head and Arthur recoiled before the tip landed just above his head, clanking against concrete. If Arthur’s heart wasn’t busy leaping into his throat he might have told Tyrian off for the rough misuse of his new prosthetic. 

Tyrian bent over, hunched as he braced his forearms be each side of Arthur’s face, and Arthur swallowed back the lump in his throat. Tyrian’s bound hair fell from his shoulder and brushed against Arthur’s cheek as Tyrian’s face pressed closer to his. A wicked chuckle sounded from twisted lips warming Arthur’s own and Arthur’s fingers twitched with the need to grasp something. His chair. Tyrian. _His gun._

“Now now, Doctor,” Tyrian purred and Arthur’s heart-rate spiked. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t toy with another man’s tail? Not unless-”

Tyrian shifted his weight onto his right arm as his left hand reached for Arthur’s cheek. Arthur could feet the delicate brush of knuckles against his skin caressing him with the back of his hand. 

“-you’re planning on finishing what you start.”

It was an unprecedented development but far from an unwanted one. It certainly raised some questions but none Arthur cared to ask now. He’d just have to file the sensitivity of Tyrian’s tail in the back of his mind.

It wasn’t what Arthur had planned but since it has fallen so _eloquently_ in his lap-

Arthur’s hands finally found its perch on Tyrian’s ass and the faunus sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide in his own surprise.

“If you insist.”

\--

2 -

Tyrian’s tail wasn’t taking to the prosthetic as fast as anyone would like. 

It was understandable as far as Arthur was concerned. Flesh wasn’t as advanced as metal and Arthur couldn’t just _force_ the faunus body to heal at his time. Venom was solidifying and clogging up the valves and no amount of reassurance from Arthur that it would work in time seemed to placate Salem.

He was right and she knew it, and Arthur had the sneaking suspicion she was putting more pressure on Tyrian to heal faster as punishment. She was forcing an unrealistic standard on him to keep him under her heel. Make him itch to get out and make up for his mistakes. 

And Tyrian, the poor sucker, took it to heart each time. 

“She hates me.”

“If our mistress hated you, I assure you, you’d know.”

Arthur clipped the stinger back in its joint before he stood to dispose of venom coated gloves and wash his hands. The moment Tyrian’s tail was set back into place Tyrian pulled it close to wrap it around his body, wound tight in some sort of pseudo-hug. 

“I’ve failed her,” Tyrian spoke, his voice so unusually soft. As quick as it came it was gone again, replaced with a spit of anger. _“Again!”_

Tyrian curled into himself as his hands reached for his hair and _tugged_. Arthur grabbed himself a cloth and dried his hands as he approached the other. Despite himself Arthur did feel sympathy for the other. Salem was putting far too much pressure on the man and the stress likely wasn’t helping the healing. 

Tyrian yanked at his hair messing up the neat braid with his actions and Arthur dropped the cloth to grasp his hands.

“Enough. This isn’t helping.”

“Useless! Pathetic useless thing! A scorpion with no tail is nothing more than a useless insect!” Tyrian tugged harder and Arthur worked to unwind hair from Tyrian’s clawing fingers, pulling them away.

“A scorpion without their tail still has their pincers.” Tyrian’s chin tucked against his chest with a wailed cry and Arthur pulled his hands away and stroked his thumbs against Tyrian’s palms. “Your tail will heal and you’ll try again. Or do you have so little faith in me?”

Tyrian’s head landed with a thump on Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur could feel the timid shake of his head.

“Salem puts so much weight on your shoulders because she expects nothing but the finest work from you. And you are indeed the finest in the work you do.”

Tyrian breathed a quick laugh between shaky breaths, his voice warbled and barely held together as he answered; “you say such pretty words, doctor..”

Arthur hummed as Tyrian’s hands pulled free from his only to wrap themselves around Arthur’s neck, anchoring himself to the doctor. Relenting, Arthur wrapped his arms around Tyrian’s back to reciprocate the hug. Tyrian’s body shivered and jumped with hiccupped sobs and Arthur did his best to rub circles against the man’s back and soothe him.

“I assure you everything will be fine. We just need a little more time.”

Tyrian huffed a laugh against Arthur’s shoulder, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he slowly slumped into Arthur’s arms.

“I hate when you make me wait.”

Arthur breathed a laugh of his own, silently grateful for the slow switch in Tyrian’s moods.

“I’m well aware. But all good things come to those who wait.”

\--

3 -

There were many perks to staying within the Evernight Castle. After spending years amongst the crowds of Atlas playing a cog in a well oiled machine, Arthur didn’t miss the stress and grind. He missed the position. The work, though Salem kept him perfectly busy all the same. But the people were so _frustrating_. Both those he worked with and those he simply had to pass in the streets.

Evernight was for the most part _calm_. There were bursts of irrational emotions, usually from Salem herself. In-fighting that Arthur had to admit he played a part in. But these days he found far much more time on his hands. 

Though for each perk there was a con to counter it. 

Most importantly their limited resources and the restricted travel they all had to abide by. Which _very unfortunately_ left Arthur with little material to read. 

Feet propped up on a little footstool, Arthur reclined back in his seat as he read in the flicker of red light. 

This particular book he’d read twice before. He’d enjoyed it enough to pick it up for a second time but by the third it had gotten _stale_. No amount of perfectly crafted wordplay and mystery could distract him from the fact that the killer was the presumed dead lover written off by the second chapter. 

Along his walls lining a multitude of bookshelves were hundreds of other novels, most of which Arthur had read once or twice. Others were too _disappointing_ to even force himself through. Even still he kept them on the off-case he got _desperate_.

He suspected he might have been at that point by the time he reached the protagonist burying an empty casket. 

A door creaked behind him and for once Arthur _welcomed_ the distraction, book settled in his lap as he glanced back to the door leading to his separate bedroom and the man that came out of it.

“Oh _goodie_ ,” Arthur greeted, idly returning to his stale book. “You’ve put on pants.”

Tyrian yawned and stretched, scarred arms raised above his head and back bent before he stepped up onto the chair’s armrest. Setting his book back down, Arthur frowned up at the faunus as he crouched and settled onto his haunches, balanced on the balls of his feet.

“I could still take them off if you’d prefer,” Tyrian offered, his voice practically a purr with sleep.

“Absolutely not,” Arthur argued as he flipped to the next page. “I won't have you gallivanting around my office looking… _indecent_.”

For a moment Arthur let himself eye Tyrian over, noting his loose and rather wild hair. The pink lines across his shoulders and a far from subtle bruise at the base of Tyrian’s neck.

“Well… _anymore_ indecent,” he corrected, pointedly turning back to his mind-numbing book. 

Tyrian hummed, though he didn’t seem to pay Arthur’s words any mind. One foot slipped forward off the armrest and Arthur raised his elbows to let his leg rest across his lap. Tyrian plopped himself down on the edge, his other leg accompanying the other until he was sitting on the edge, legs strewn over Arthur’s as he rested his shoulder against the back of the chair.

“You left,” Tyrian commented, voice low and almost sullen, but that could easily be blamed on his obvious tired state. 

“Of course I did. Not all of us suffer the effects of nocturnalism.”

Slowly Tyrian raised an arm, palm faced up to the proverbial heavens as it stretched out, like praising a benevolent God.

“In the wondrous land of our perfect Goddess, we all dwell in the Evernight. Day and night. Night and day. Our eternal darkness cannot be broken by the scorching light of the sun and as such the two bleed into one.”

“That very much may be so but that does not negate the effects of my internal clock, nor does it change the fact that it’s _ten in the morning_.”

Tyrian huffed a laugh as his arm dropped suddenly, slack at his side as one yellow eye peered open. 

“Why couldn’t you just read in bed?”

“Because _you_ gripe at me for keeping the light on when you’re trying to sleep.” And quite frankly Arthur had no interest in dealing with a sleep deprived and prissy serial killer, upset because Arthur was keeping him awake.

Tyrian didn’t deny it. _Couldn’t_. They both knew he was right. His tail struck the floor twice, idly moving as he nuzzled his cheek into the headrest. With a dozy voice Tyrian only offered a quiet _’mmmkay’_. 

“Go back to bed, Tyrian.”

Tyrian drew in a long breath through his nose before he turned to rub his face against the chair. “ _Nooooo.._ Not without you.”

Stubborn thing he was. 

“I’m not going back-”

“Then read for me.”

Arthur paused in his reading (not that he was paying it all that much attention to begin with). Now _there_ was a thought. It was incredibly demanding of Tyrian to assume Arthur would be all too happy to start this story for a fourth time just to read a sliver for _him_ but it wasn’t like the narrative was getting anymore interesting. With an audience perhaps he could manage to make himself care for the story once again.

“You are _insufferable_ ,” Arthur claimed, though no trace of heat managed to spark in his voice. Tyrian only hummed a laugh apparently finding it as weak of an insult as it felt.

He flipped back to page one once more and started yet again, this time so much slower as he read it aloud. 

It was admittedly _somewhat_ better, if only because Tyrian would occasionally make a noise of interest from time to time. Little indicators that he was listening and interested that inspired Arthur to continue.

Eventually Tyrian slipped from the armrest, sliding down to accompany Arthur in the cramped chair as the doctor pressed himself closer to the other side. Tyrian’s knees got in the way and Arthur was quick to push them down to hang over his own instead. It wasn’t the most comfortable for Arthur, what with Tyrian practically glued to his side, but Tyrian seemed happily content in the cramped space.

So Arthur continued. For Tyrian’s benefit he put more theatrics into the words, relaying the tone of the text with the same sort of shift in his voice. He was five pages deep into the picture perfect descriptor of the lover’s _’murder scene’_ when Tyrian piped up;

“It’s him.”

Cut off mid-sentence, Arthur’s brows drew in with a thoughtful frown.

“Who?”

“The lover.”

“What- what about him?”

“He’s the killer.”

Bewildered, Arthur scowled down at the text he was reading. How did he-? It had taken Arthur until at least chapter nine to suspect him!

“You’ve read this before.” He _tried_ to make that sound like a question, but it only succeeded to accuse.

Tyrian shook his head, his face now rested against Arthur’s shoulder.

“No.. no no no. Never, dear Arthur. I would _never_. I find stories of death _dull_ when I can _live it_.”

With his thumb stuck between the pages to keep his place, Arthur closed the book with a frown.

“Then how the _bloody hell_ could you come to that conclusion?”

Arthur’s frustration must have been apparent because Tyrian simply laughed, nosing along Arthur’s jaw in a way that could have been to soothe him or _piss him off further_.

“You,” Tyrian answers, voice low with the edge of sleep. “The way.. you talk about them. Your tone _changes_. You’re dropping hints, Arthur, but you’re so _obvious_.”

Arthur only huffs at Tyrian’s claim which seems to amuse the scorpion further, his chest bouncing with silent laughter.

“If that’s the case then there’s no point in us continuing.”

“ _Noooo_ ,” Tyrian suddenly whined as his heavy arms coiled around Arthur. “No no no, keep reading. Keep going.”

“What’s the point? If you know the ending-”

“You still read it too,” Tyrian pointed out as his tail coiled around Arthur’s ankle. “Just want.. to hear you. Your voice. Keep reading.”

Huffing a silent laugh himself, Arthur let the book fall open once again. Despite himself Arthur continued, spinning the elaborate tale as Tyrian rested against his side.

\--

4-

“Hold still!” 

Catching Tyrian’s chin between his forefinger and the thumb, Arthur attempted to keep Tyrian’s face still.

It was always such a hassle when Tyrian drove himself into this kind of state. So jittery and rambunctious. Arthur could see he was _trying_ to keep still but his hands still twitched and wrung together, yellow eyes rolled up and away as he focused on the smaller things rather than what was _important_.

Tyrian might have very well been all too happy to wear the bloodstains of others for days on end but Arthur was having _none of it_. 

Wetting his washcloth under the running tap of his bath, Arthur yanked Tyrian’s face forward once again when the faunus got distracted.

“Focus, Tyrian.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Tyrian hissed back as his tail flicked violently at his irritation, clanking against the side of the tub they were both perched on. 

Four seconds of composure was about all Tyrian could handle before Arthur had to reign him back in with force. Squirmy little thing. 

Tyrian had come back to the castle with a splatter of blood painted over his clothes and skin. While it had been easy to convince Tyrian to strip off the soiled outer layers, getting him to clean himself was another issue entirely.

Arthur dabbed the cloth under Tyrian’s left eye, cleaning away a smear as Tyrian squinted the eye shut.

“S’cold,” Tyrian whined. 

With a sigh Arthur pulled away to turn up the heat. He let the water run over the washcloth and his fingers until it was a comfortable warm before he returned to Tyrian.

Tyrian was _far_ more agreeable the second time around. Feeling the warm water against his face Tyrian’s chin slipped to rest in Arthur’s palm, cradled between his thumb and fingers. His eyes slipped shut happily.

Arthur wiped along the bridge of Tyrian’s nose clearing a path in the dried filth. Over a relaxed brow and fluttering eyelid. He’d pull away to wet another spot in the material before cleaning Tyrian’s cheek, scrubbing warm water over more stubborn splatters. 

He followed down the curve of Tyrian’s jaw, raising his thumb to get just under Tyrian’s chin when he paused.

Tyrian in his comfort had stuck the tip of his tongue out. It was incredibly childish and deceptively cute; something that in no possible way belonged on the face of a killer still half coated in blood.

“Would you stop that?” Arthur chastised, only for Tyrian to stick his tongue out further. 

Arthur gave an unimpressed _’hn’_ before he swiped the towel over it.

Predictably Tyrian jerked away and flicked his tongue in and out, face twisted in disgust. 

“It serves you right,” Arthur chilled, reaching out for Tyrian again. When Tyrian pulled away once more Arthur lent forward and grabbed the other by the back of his head, forcing him still as he ran the water over the towel again.

Caught in Arthur’s grasp, Tyrian relented and pushed forward, one hand braced against the edge of the bath and the other pressed to Arthur’s thigh. Arthur grunted at the contact but otherwise ignored it, more focused on a particularly large spot on Tyrian’s temple.

Even focused as he was, Arthur was not blind to the fact Tyrian kept creeping forward, his hand slipped up to his lap while the other made contact with his knee. Grunting, Arthur lent back with narrowed eyes.

“ _Tyrian_ ,” Arthur warned, teetering on the edge as Tyrian crept ever closer. “Not _now_.”

“You’re so mean to me, doctor~” Tyrian purred as he turned his face to press a kiss to Arthur’s wrist. “But you touch me _oh so sweetly_.”

“Well _someone_ has to take care of you seeing as you’re apparently incapable,” Arthur huffed but Tyrian only chuckled. High and giddy as his hand travelled higher along Arthur’s groin. 

“Oh I am _perfectly capable_ , Arthur. It’s just so much _lovelier_ when you do it for me.”

“If that’s the case-!” Arthur yanked the cloth away but Tyrian only caught his wrist, holding it up as he practically launched himself at the doctor. “Tyria-!”

The sudden force knocked Arthur over the edge sending them both crashing into the partly filled tub. Hot water soaked straight through Arthur’s clothes, risen up just over the shell of his ears as water continued to run just above his head. The sudden impact rattled him, air forced from his lungs as Tyrian draped himself over Arthur’s sprawled out form. One of his lanky legs was thrown over the side of the tub, the other bent with his foot propped against the edge. 

Fully clothed as he was, Arthur glowered at the ceiling light as Tyrian pressed fleeting kisses under his jaw. From the way Tyrian’s tail swayed back and forth Arthur was sure the faunus was incredibly proud of himself.

“Why do I put up with you?” Arthur grumbled, not bothering to move as the water slowly crept up to his cheeks.

Unoffended, Tyrian chuckled low and cruel. When lithe fingers tugged on his belt Arthur offered a soft ‘ _ah_ ’

_That’s why._

\--

5-

Arthur knew it was Tyrian before he even switched the light on. As the single faunus in the Evernight Castle he was the only one capable of navigating properly in the darkness. He was also the only one capable of getting through the locks Arthur set in place (how, he had yet to find out).

More than that, there was no mistaking that insistent babbling.

Arthur flipped his light switch and watched as Tyrian recoiled, eyes squinted shut as he threw an arm over them. He groaned pathetically and Arthur took pity, turning the intensity down to a dull glow.

Arthur closed the door behind himself, locking the mechanics with a simple flick of a finger and a glow from a ring.

“Docteerr~” Tyrian purred, but Arthur ignored it.

Instead he shed himself of his jacket, stepping over discarded empty liquor bottles to hang it up before working his tie off.

“Do you think-” Tyrian started before cutting himself short, and Arthur watched as Tyrian’s head dipped to one side. His eyes were glassy and chest sticky with a concoction of different alcohols. “Do- do you- do you think sadists and- and mass- massso-”

“Masochists,” Arthur prompts, hanging his tie up as well before he began to toe off his shoes.

Tyrian clicked his fingers clumsily, pointing at what Arthur could only assume to be him, though the drunken man failed miserably.

“Masokites!”

“Close enough,” Arthur muttered as he bent down and started picking up wasted bottles. _His_ bottles. All expensive and incredibly difficult to replace. Once Tyrian was sober enough he’d be sure to chew him out.

“Do you think… they get along?”

“I believe that is the point, is it not?” Arthur played along, setting his bottles on the desk to dispose of later. Once he checked up on… the _other_ mess.

“But tha’s- that’s the point! If- if sadists get off on- on others pain, but maso-sssocates get off on pain, then it cancels out. Because they’re not- not really hurting ‘em, you know?”

“Interesting hypothesis,” Arthur lied as he knelt by Tyrian’s side. Gently he pressed his fingers over Tyrian’s eyelids and pried them open, noting the glassy faraway look he got in return. His pupil was blown far wider than normal. 

“Cause I’m- I’m a _sadist_ ,” Tyrian continued, pressing his hands against his chest as his tail waved aimlessly. Concerned over Tyrian’s current state of control, Arthur caught it and began disconnecting the stinger from the joint. “But YOU! You’re no- you’re no _masochist_.”

“Astounding, Tyrian. You managed it on the first try.” Setting the stinger down for a moment, Arthur ran his fingers over Tyrian’s forehead to test his temperature. It was always harder to tell with the cold-blooded faunus but he was certainly warmer than usual. Tyrian hummed and lent into him, a dreamy smile twitching on his flushed face. “However, from past experiences with your sexual endeavors, I’d suggest you fall closer to the ‘masochist’ category.”

Tyrian began to nod but from the sudden pinch in his brow he clearly regretted the action.

“Both then,” Tyrian sighed before a short laugh bubbled freely from his lips. “I suppose- that answers it then.”

“You’ve reached your conclusion?” Arthur humoured him, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket to start drying sweat from Tyrian’s skin. 

“They _must_ ,” Tyrian decided, his now stingerless tail swaying haphazardly as Arthur moved down to his collar. “Since I’m- I’m both. And I like me.”

Despite himself Arthur huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned the fabric around to clean his chest of what alcohol he could. 

Feeling rather kind, Arthur decided to indulge him; “I like you too.”

Tyrian grabbed a hold of Arthur’s wrist, holding his hand still against his chest. Right over his heart. Yellow eyes peaked open, hazed but directed towards Arthur’s face.

“You _love me_ ,” Tyrian decided and Arthur tensed up. “Just like… I love you. You love me, Arthur~”

He sang his words so incredibly sure and Arthur grimaced.

“You shouldn’t get greedy, Tyrian,” He deflects, setting the handkerchief aside to slip his arms under Tyrian’s knees and behind his back. As he lifted the drunk up Tyrian went slack, draped in his arms and mumbling in his oncoming slumber.

“To those who wait…”

\--

+1

Not that Arthur would _ever_ admit it out loud, but he had been much more homesick than he’d originally believed. Even just staying in the dregs of Mantle gave him some form of comfort. He missed the bite of cold. The architecture and the technology he personally weaved into them. There were many things he didn’t miss of course, but so much that struck that unfortunate chord of nostalgia.

Mantle hadn’t changed all that much. If anything it only seemed to be _worse_ , reflecting their general’s fraying mental state. James had really let himself go and Mantle suffered for it. Ultimately this was only a plus for Arthur though his Atlesian blood couldn’t help but find it all a massive _pity_. 

It seemed that James only continued with his questionable decisions. 

The accommodation he’d found himself and Tyrian was far from what Arthur would prefer but it would work to keep them out of public eye. At the very least it had a semi-decent heating system, enough to keep those without an aura warm during the gruelling nights. It was a standard for every building after all. 

Arthur himself was perfectly warm. The cold barely touched him through his aura. Chilly, but nothing he couldn’t handle, especially underneath three layers of blankets. Tyrian was… Gods knew where, but that wasn’t a problem. He was better hunting during the nights anyway.

A week in and they’d found the system that worked for them. Tyrian would spend most of the night on the streets _watching_. Learning. Brilliant thing he was. He’d pick off one or two of Robyn Hill’s more vocal supporters before curling up in bed beside Arthur before the sun could rise.

Arthur would usually wake up when Tyrian arrived and Tyrian would relay information as Arthur got up. 

It was a nice little system that worked for the most part.

Which is why Arthur initially panicked when their door swung open before it even reached midnight.

Such a tiny space they were stationed in with two rooms. One for toiletry needs, and… _the rest_ cramped together in another. At the very least it meant Arthur had a clear view of any unwanted visitors, or a very worn down looking partner.

Tyrian kicked the door shut behind himself, arms coiled around his body desperately as his teeth chattered. That wasn’t _normal_. While Tyrian had a habit of keeping his aura switched off, he’d quickly decided against that the moment the cold of Solitas touched his skin. The poor cold-blooded thing wouldn’t survive the cruel weathers without the aid of his aura.

Which made it all the more concerning when Tyrian practically launched himself at the bed and scrambled under the blankets.

Arthur lifted them to help Tyrian climb beneath as he flicked on the bedside light.

Much to Arthur’s concern, Tyrian’s skin was a concerning shade of blue, lips near purple as he shook. 

“What happened?” Arthur pressed as Tyrian began tearing off his clothes beneath the sheets.

Tyrian didn’t answer. He was too frantic, kicking off his boots and struggling with his coat. Throwing the blanket off them Arthur assisted him, stripping Tyrian down to bare minimum. At each brush of contact Arthur noted the ice to his skin but it didn’t nearly prepare him enough for the absolute frost of Tyrian’s embrace.

Stripped down, Tyrian threw his weapons to the ground before clawing at Arthur’s own clothes. Arthur complied, stripped down to his underwear before Tyrian wrapped himself entirely around the other.

It was like ice on his chest, wrapped around his back with toes pressed to his shins, soaking what warmth he could. Tyrian’s face pressed up under his jaw and Arthur didn’t complain, managing to pull the blankets up over them from Tyrian’s grip.

Tyrian shivered violently and Arthur began projecting his aura outwards, offering what warmth he could to the freezing man. One of Arthur’s hands rubbed at Tyrian’s ear, forcing heat into it as the other rubbed Tyrian’s back. Once his ear had heated sufficiently he swapped around, working on the other.

He didn’t push or question further focusing entirely on warming the scorpion. The metal of his prosthetic nudged his leg and Arthur hissed.

“Give it here,” Arthur demanded, reaching his hand down from Tyrian’s ear towards the base of Tyrian’s tail. “We need to remove the stinger and warm the appendage or you might risk losing more.”

“It _hurts_ ,” Tyrian hissed, following Arthur’s instructions and willingly letting the doctor remove the end.

“Your tail?”

“My _stinger_ ,” Tyrian stressed, teeth chattering as he continued to warm his nose against Arthur’s throat.

“Phantom pains,” Arthur deduced. “Your aura?”

“Broken,” Tyrian confirmed his suspicions, and Arthur sucked in a sharp breath as Tyrian’s hands sprayed across his back. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No. _No no_ , not so close. One good shot. I’m not hurt.”

“You killed your target?” Despite the severity of Tyrian’s condition he _did_ need to assure there were no witnesses. 

“Dead. Lifeless puppets, slaughtered for her grace. Won't fail her. _Not again_.”

“Focus on your own well being first, Tyrian. Wrap your tail around me.”

Tyrian obeyed without comment, happily snaking his tail beneath Arthur’s back and around his belly. The metal lining the spine and tip were painfully chilling but it was _necessary_.

“Were you worried about me, Arthur?” Tyrian taunted though it fell flat with the chatter of teeth.

“Indubiously.”

Tyrian’s chest vibrated with silent laughter as Arthur continued to sooth his body down, rubbing warmth back into the skin. Every once in awhile Tyrian would shift, introducing a new patch of skin that needed his contact. For an hour it continued, Tyrian shifting and soaking what warmth he could from Arthur’s body. Arthur took one of Tyrian’s hands and brought it to his mouth to breathe hot air over.

It was an hour of incredible anxiety from Arthur, concerned everytime a new wave of shutters came over the faunus. But bit by bit colour returned to Tyrian’s skin, and Tyrian grew more and more slack in Arthur’s attentive hold. 

He unwound Tyrian’s hair and threaded his fingers through, spreading it over Tyrian’s shoulders and back to warm him further.

With time Tyrian’s breathing evened out. His grip around Arthur weakened slowly until Tyrian was sighing, nuzzling and offering appreciative kisses along Arthur’s collar. It was soft and warm, relaxed as he spoke against Arthur’s skin.

“Thank you, doctor.”

For a brief moment Arthur’s heart soared. He hadn’t even realised how worried he’d been. How for an hour his heart had been pounding far too loudly. How, in that time, he suddenly _hated_ being in Solitas again. Hated the cold and what it did to his lover. 

He wanted to wrap Tyrian in tight and offer what he could. His touch. His warmth. His-

“Oh.”

_\- his love._

“ _Oh?_ ” Tyrian parroted, yellow eyes slipping open enough to peer up at the awestruck doctor.

It had been so slow in its development that Arthur hadn’t even paid it any mind. The sheer fondness that had grown. 

_Lover_. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Arthur hadn’t even realised it. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur slowly shook his head as he struggled to school his shock.

“I- I just.. believe I may have… realised something.”

Tyrian propped himself up from Arthur’s chest enough to stare down at him, long strands of black hair cascading over scared shoulders, and Arthur noted the fluttering sensation below his sternum.

“Was it important?”

_Incredibly_. It changed… a _lot_. And yet nothing at all. Re-evaluation, mostly. It would take time for him to process and digest but-

“I believe so.”

Tyrian tilted his head and Arthur could swear those wise golden eyes were dissecting him. Picking him apart bit by bit. Eyes Arthur had seen a million times over and yet they never left him feeling quite as vulnerable as they did that very moment.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself about,” Arthur assured.

Tyrian took a moment to consider Arthur’s claim before he relented and snuggled in close once again, indulging himself in the warm body below. Arthur continued to run his fingers through fine hair, soothing it down and tracing his fingers over cool skin below.

“I love you,” Tyrian murmured and Arthur sucked in a sharp breath.

“I love you too.” So simple and yet it had taken him so long to realise.

Tyrian tensed in his hold for a beat and Arthur couldn’t help but worry he’d said something wrong. That he’d screwed it up before it all truly began. But Tyrian only sighed, his breath chilly as he wound himself around Arthur tighter.

“It’s nice to hear you say it.”

Arthur certainly couldn’t disagree. After all, it was nice to finally feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone who read this! And an extra thank you for any comments and/or kudos!!
> 
> If you'd like to catch me elsewhere, you can find me on: [Tumblr](https://taziidcvil.tumblr.com/)


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